Donald's Lost Memories
by MoonLightView
Summary: Scared out of his wits that his friends would leave him, Donald Duck tries to control his temper. But everyone knows nothing goes according to plan for Donald. Can his friends Jose and Panchito help him? First Disney Three Caballeros. Be gentle!
1. Chapter 1

"Are you starting to see why this is a problem, Mr. Duck?"

Donald Duck gave a sideways glance at his therapist, Dr. Snobo, before turning his attention back to the shattered pieces of glass, wood, and metal. Due to another one of his unstoppable temper tantrums, Donald had broken one of his most precious possessions, along with most of his stuff inside his house; an old picture frame that held a picture of his parents, his sister Della, and himself when he was just a duckling, a happy memory that he cherished more than anything else in the world.

"T-This may be getting out of hand," the small duck muttered as he tried to glue the shattered pieces of the frame back together.

The doctor shook his head. "Tsk, tsk this is why I said it was important to keep your temper in check. Why do you like breaking things so much when you're angry?"

Donald shrugged his shoulders before gluing one piece of the frame to another. "It's nice to see something else going to pieces other than my life."

"And what brought on your anger today?"

The duck sighed before he began recalling what had happened earlier in the day. It started off as a normal day, starting his new job as a delivery man-er-duck. His first six deliveries went off without a hitch. The costumers were nice and friendly, and some even gave him a small tip. But when he got to house number seven, that's when his luck had changed for the worse. Donald shuddered just thinking about it.

"Go on, Mr. Duck. Tell me what happened next."

"Well…when I got to the seventh house on my delivery list, I was ambushed by some cat! The little monster started scratching and biting me! As a tax paying citizen I had every right to defend myself! So I smacked that little devil with my mail bag and sent it flying into the nearest garbage can…right when the owner of the cat showed up…" Donald shuddered again when he thought of the red-headed middle aged woman who was the owner of the devil cat. The fire in her eyes as she approached him with her purse that looked like it was filled with rocks.

The shrink nodded his head and stroked his long beard. "Let me guess, the owner of the cat…"

"…Was the person who ordered the package." Donald sighed again. "And you can guess what happened next after that."

"Judging by how angry you were today, you got fired." Doctor Snobo adjusted his glasses and took in his patient's appearance. "And judging by the bruises on your head, you were struck repeatedly by a purse filled with…rocks?"

"…No," the duck said while gently rubbing his sore head. "Five inch steel bolts. Apparently her husband works at a construction site."

The older man nodded his head again. "And when you got home, you were angry and started breaking things around your house, including your beloved picture."

The feathered creature nodded miserably while gluing three pieces of glass together, flinching when accidentally cut himself. He muttered a small 'thank you' when the doctor handed him a band-aid.

"Mr. Donald, you must find another way to vent your anger without breaking anything or hitting anyone."

"I've been trying that for years, Doc! I can't seem to stop it."

"Then you must try harder, Mr. Duck. Surely there's a method you have yet to try."

Donald shrugged his shoulders, turning his attention back onto the broken object in his hands. He rearranged a corner piece of the frame so that it fit with another part of the structure. Slowly but surely it was coming back together.

Dr. Snobo leaned back into his chair in deep thought. Over the past thirty years he had dealt with patients with anger issues, but none of them compared to Donald's. It would take something tremendous to cure this duck's temper.

While the doctor continued to ponder different ways to cure his patient's temper tantrums, Donald was nearly done putting together the broken frame. But before he could place the last piece with the rest, he found that his hand was glued to the desk, the last piece to the frame, and his family photo.

"Have you ever tried writing out your problems?" asked the doctor, aware of the younger man's predicament. '_I knew I should have never let him use the super glue…'_

The white duck glared at the shrink while he struggled to free his hand from the desk. "You mean keep a diary about how awful my bad luck is? So I can be reminded on how much the universe hates me? No thank-you! Waaaakkk!" He felt his anger build as he yanked harder away from the desk, determined to free his stuck hand.

"Careful, Mr. Duck," warned the doctor, instantly getting a bad feeling about what was going to happen. "You might just… (Rip)!

The room fell silent, and both males shocked by what had just happened. Donald's blue eyes were frozen on his precious picture which now had a huge tear in the middle. His heart throbbed painfully and his lips quivered. My God, what did he just do?

The shrink quickly rushed to the duck's side. "Now, now, Mr. Duck, there is no need to get depressed over this! We can fix it with a little glu-er-tape! With a little tape we can fix this and no one will ever know!" When he didn't receive an answer he started to get worried. "Mr. Duck…?" The doctor sighed once more. "This is why I tell you to not lose your temper so much. If this problem isn't fixed, I'm…I'm afraid that no one would want to be around you. And you'll be all alone. You don't want that, do you Mr. Duck?"

The young white duck shuddered slightly before shaking his head no. Forcing his body to relax, Donald leaned forward so that the section of the photo that got torn off would stick back together with the half that was stuck to the desk. This was causing a problem. "Y-You really think writing my problems out will help me control my temper?"

"It's a possibility, Mr. Duck. Some of my other patients say that this method works for them. At least give a try next time you feel like you're about to lose your temper."

Donald nodded slowly. "…Thanks, Doc."

"You are welcome. Now, shall we find a way to free you from this glue and fix your photo?"

**XxXxXxX**

Around eight o'clock in the evening, Donald Duck finally made it back to his house. "Boys, I'm home!" he called out as he walked through the front door. To his surprise the mess that he made earlier had been cleaned up. He smiled a little; his nephews could be such angels sometimes. The sound of pitter pattering footsteps running down the stairs soon entered his ears and three little ducklings wearing the colors red, blue, and green came into view.

"Welcome home…" says Huey.

"Unca…" says Dewey.

"Donald!" says Louie.

The older male patted each duckling on their heads. "Hey boys, how was school today?"

"School was fine, Unca Donald." answered Huey.

"But how was work?" asked Dewey.

"We saw the house was in shambles." said Louie.

Donald sighs and begins to tell his nephews about the bad day he's had. "And all I want to do now is to put my feet up and relax."

"You do that, Unca Donald."

"And tomorrow…"

"We'll help you find another job."

"Thanks, boys." With that said the older male duck retired to his bedroom for the night. After taking a quick shower and changing into his light blue night-shirt. He stared at his newly repaired picture and frame for a while before placing it on his nightstand. "I hope tomorrow will be a better day," he muttered before he crawled into bed.

_**I'm afraid that no one would want to be around you. And you'll be all alone. You don't want that, do you Mr. Duck?**_

The duck shuddered again from the words of his therapist. His friends wouldn't leave him because of his out-of-control temper, would they? His overactive imagination began to take hold. _'Is that why my parents made me stay with Grandma Duck?'_ The young male quickly squashed the thought, mentally smacking himself at such a ridiculous notion. _'All I need is a good night sleep to forget this day ever happened.'_

_***Dream sequence* **_

"_I can't take this anymore, Mother! His temper is out of control, I can't get him to behave, he keeps getting suspended from school, and we just can't deal with him anymore!"_

…_._

"_Wait boys, where are you three going?" cried Donald as he chased his three nephews, who had packed their bags and were walking out the door._

"_We're tired of your temper…"_

"_So we're gonna stay…"_

"_With Grandma Duck, Unca Donald!"_

_The three ducklings turned and gave the older male a harsh glare. "WE DON'T WANT YOU FOR AN UNCA ANYMORE!" the three shouted together before turning to leave once more._

"_Boys, boys, please don't go! I can change!"_

"_Ha that's a laugh, Donald!" laughed Daisy as she walked with her arms linked with his born lucky cousin, Gladstone Duck. _

_The now nephew-less duck was shell shocked at what he was seeing. "D-Daisy, w…what, why are with Gladstone?"_

_The female duck humphed. "Because, unlike __**someone **__that I __**used **__to date, Gladstone-sweetie can keep his temper, and he finds all sorts of cool things to give me like money and diamonds! When have you ever done that for me?"_

"_I-I'm sorry, Daisy! I would all those things if I could…"_

"_Still making excuses, Donal'?"_

"_I knew he would never change."_

_The all white mallard felt his blood run cold when he heard the two familiar voices. Turning around, he saw his two best friends from Brazil and Mexico, Jose Carioca and Panchito Pistoles. W-We're they going to leave him too? This couldn't be happening! "F-Fellas, y…you guys wouldn't…"_

"_Sorry, Donal', but we found a new third Caballero," says Panchito. The rooster then waves at a familiar face to come over._

_Donald's jaw hit the floor when he saw his cousin Gus waddle over. "You're replacing me, with…with Gus Goose?"_

"_Of course! Not only does our new amigo keep his temper, but he's a much better singer as well," replies Jose. With that said the newly formed trio walked away from the former member of the three Caballeros._

_Tears began to fill Donald's eyes as he watched his family and friends leave him all alone. His heart felt like it had been shattered into a million pieces, just like his picture frame. "Wait, you guys! Please don't go away! I can change! I CAN CHANGE!"_

_***End dream sequence***_

Donald jolted up with a start and found himself hanging half way out of bed, completely tangled in his bed sheets. Desperately trying to catch his breath, the duck let himself hang in the air until he felt the terror pass from his body. He's had nightmares before, but none of them were as scary as this one_. 'And to think that all my friends and family would abandon me because I lose my temper to much. I don't think I could take it. I have to control my rage!_' Unable to take the feeling of blood rushing to his head anymore, the male struggled against the binding sheets, and fell head first onto the wooden floor.

"This is just exasperating," he muttered. He stayed on the ground, waiting for the dull ache in his head to pass before unrolling himself from the sheets and walking over to his desk. Still feeling a little bit of rage that lingered from earlier today, Donald sat down at his desk and pulled out a pen and piece of paper. _'I might as well test to see if this writing method helps my rage. At this point, I'll try anything.'_

_**Dear Universe,**_

_I HATE YOU! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH GRIEF YOU HAVE GIVEN ME SINCE I WAS BORN? WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH? WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU? WHY, why, why? Why do I get stuck with all the bad luck...why can't anything go my way for a change? All I'm asking you is why…Do you like seeing me angry? Do you want me to lose everyone I care about?_

_**Signed**_

_**Donald F. Duck**_

The water fowl put down his pencil once he felt remaining anger leave his body. He felt calmer and less stressed about the events that happened today. And it felt nice to somehow describe how he was feeling even if it was to a piece of paper. A small grin appeared on his beak. "Ha I think this might actually work! I'm finally gonna change!"


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING**

**XxXxXxX**

Donald Duck didn't know what to think when he saw his nephew's expressions when he presented them each a stack of pancakes for breakfast. Currently now they stood outside of the kitchen area, the look of curiosity and skepticism painted on their faces. Sure it was a rarity that he did such a thing like cooking a hearty breakfast feast for them, and he needed to be in an absolutely good mood to do so, but it still didn't mean he couldn't do such a thing from the kindness of his heart, did it?

"Don't be shy boys, come and get it!"

The duckling triplets looked at each other for reassurance before slowly approaching the kitchen table. Each of their bodies was tense, ready to flee just in case their Uncle was planning a trick of some sort. It wasn't that their Uncle Donald didn't make nice things for them from time to time, but it seemed very unlikely that he would do so now, especially after he just got fired from his job. In fact, it was more likely for him to lead them into a false sense of security before he got them all with a prank just because he needed someone to take his anger and frustration out on.

After moving at a pace that was even slower than a snail's, the boys finally made to their seats at the table. Donald smiled broadly before pushing three plates stacked with light golden brown cakes towards his nephews. "Here you are, boys. Strawberry pancakes for Huey, blueberry pancakes for Dewey, and chocolate chip pancakes for Louie. Dig in!"

Said ducks timidly grabbed their forks, gently poking the fluffy flat circles that seemed too good to be true. The sweet smell of strawberry, blueberry, and chocolate chip mingled together in air, making an aroma so delicious that it was impossible to scrutinize the breakfast cakes any longer.

"Oh…"

"…My…"

"…Gosh…"

"These are delicious Unca Donald!" the three chorused happily as they gobbled up more of the pancakes with vigor.

The older duck chuckled. "Glad you like them," he says before settling down in his chair and starting on his own breakfast. It wasn't long before all four water fowls were finished eating, each one leaning back in their seats, sighs of content leaving their beaks.

Donald inwardly smiled when he saw how happy his three nephews were. He thought it was nice that they were all getting along with each other and not at each other's throats. Getting up, he grabbed each of their plates and walked towards the kitchen sink to wash up.

'_It's kinda nice doing things for others,' _he thought to himself_. 'Wonder why I stopped?'_

But as he trekked over to the sink, the feeling of something small and unstable found its way underneath his foot, causing him to tip backwards and fall to the ground. All the air in his lungs left his body when his back met the cold, hard floor. The sound of breaking glass filled the kitchen and the feeling of sharp pricks piercing his skin soon followed.

'_Ah I remember now. No good deed goes unpunished…'_

After the fallen mallard got his bearings straight and the tiny shards of glass freed from his feathers he noticed Huey, Dewey, and Louie had left their seats and were now huddled together in the corner. Their eyes filled with fear, worry, and guilt. Looking down at the ground, Donald found the cause of his misfortune; a small, red toy car. That explained the guilty expression on their faces. Annoyance and anger started to fill the older male's body. How many times had he told them not to leave their toys out in the middle of the floor? More times than not, he was sure. He had a good mind to turn them over his knee and give them a spanking of a lifetime. But the words of his therapist and his new resolve kept him from carrying out the deed. So instead, he walked out of the kitchen and into his room, leaving his family alone.

"W-Wow," whispered Huey after a moment of silence. "Unca Donald didn't yell at us."

"Even though we deserved it," mumbled Dewey.

"I wouldn't celebrate just yet, fellas. Unca Donald might just be going to get a switch to use to spank us." grumbled Louie.

**XxXxXx**

Donald quickly sat down at his desk and pulled out a fresh sheet of paper. The bubbling irritation that threatened to escape his body was now being poured out with every word that he wrote on the paper. Once again his hand writing was sloppy and nearly illegible from his rage before slowly becoming clearer and neater with every word written down.

_**Dear Universe**_

_THANK YOU ONCE AGAIN FOR REMINDING ME WHY I HARDLY DO ANYTHING NICE FOR PEOPLE! THANK YOU FOR MAKING ME REMEMBER HOW NO MATTER NICE I AM, I'M STILL GONNA GET SCREWED OVER ANYWAY! I HATE YOU! I hate you so much that I have to deal with this bad luck everyday!_

_But I guess it could've worse. At least I wasn't carrying knives or anything. Even you aren't THAT cruel, right? …__**Right**__?_

_**Signed**_

_**Donald F. Duck**_

The uncle sighed softly and put down his pen once the anger left his body. Now he could go talk to his nephews without the fear of strangling them. He then left his room and walked into the eating area. Like he suspected the mess of shattered glass was still there and his boys were nowhere to be seen. Most likely they had gone into hiding, just incase he came out with the whipping stick. He couldn't really blame them, just a few days ago he would have. He soon begins walking around the house, using his past experiences over the years to dictate where his nephews were hiding. He waddled into the living room and stalked towards the wooden grandfather clock. Opening the slender door, he reached a feathered hand inside and plucked out a screaming Louie, who was now covered head to toe in dust. Tucking the frantic green clad duckling under his arm, the older male set off to find the other two while also making a mental note to dust the furniture after this was over.

Finding the other two took a little longer, but was still relatively easy. Dewey was hiding in the coat closet underneath a fallen winter jacket, and Huey managed to squeeze himself inside of the chimney. He set them down on the floor and gave them a stern look, not threatening but not very happy either. The three little ones nervously stared down at the floor, each waiting for their uncle to yell and/or spank them for leaving their toys out in the middle of the floor again, but instead he sighed and petted them each on the head.

"Look boys, I'm not going to yell or hit any of you. I just want you three to know that leaving things on the floor is dangerous," he paused for a moment to take in his nephew's expressions; shock. "I know this may seem hard to believe and I've made this promise before, but I'm a changed duck and I promise not to lose my temper from this day forth."

Huey, Dewey, and Louie stared at their uncle before looking at each other. They all were thinking the same thing: **No way this was going to last long.**

**XxXxXxX**

"I can't believe Unca Donald is gonna try to corral his temper again," muttered Dewey as the three ducklings sat in the backseat of their uncle's little red car, the infamous 313, as they waited for him as applied for jobs in the area. "Doesn't he know that it's impossible?"

"He'll never learn, I guess…" whispers Huey in agreement with a tiny shrug.

Louie just shook his head. "I'm just worried that this will end the same way the last time he tried to control his temper…"

Huey, Dewey, and Louie shuddered as they recalled what had happened a year ago. Their legal guardian had made a New Year's Resolution to keep his temper in check, needless to say, he failed.

"How long did he even last?"

"Approximately two and a half weeks."

"And don't forget what happens when Unca Donald finally releases all that anger after holding it in for days," Dewey shuddered again. "Do you think they'll ever finish repairing that old pizza parlor?"

"Dewey, you have to understand that what Unca Donald did was not **only** rip that place apart, but shook it to its very foundation. They have to build a new parlor all together!"

"**NO! NOW GET OUT!"**

The three brothers stopped their conversation and looked up just in time to see their caretaker sail through the air and land in metal wastebasket with an impressive boot imprint on his rear-end.

'_Uh-oh,'_ the triplets thought as waited to see what Donald would do next. After all the time they spent living with him, they expected to see the older duck rise from the trash bin, scarlet red in the face with fury, quacking mad before charging back into the store to partake in delicious revenge. But to their absolute surprise, the mallard just seemed to lay limp in the bin, not even trying to make an attempt to free himself.

"I-Is Unca Donald okay?"

"Don't know. Maybe he's unconscious…"

"Even if he was unconscious, which I highly doubt, it would only take a second before he's up and running again."

"…Then what's taking him so long to get up?"

"I'm…not sure."

Just before the ducks could get out of the car to go check on him, Donald finally pushed himself free from the trashcan, stuffed something deep into his shirt pocket, and proceeded to dust the dirt and trash off his person. Instead of looking angry, the older duck looked calm, completely at ease as if he didn't just get kicked in the butt and sent flying. Was this really their Uncle Donald they were seeing?

"Well that could have gone better," they heard him mutter before he turned to head off into another place of business that was hiring. "Hm I always wanted to be a barber…" He then disappeared into the store, leaving his nephews completely gob smacked.

"T-This can't be happening," shouts Huey. He's now out of the car and pacing up and down the sidewalk, his brothers quickly following suit. "This is how it got started last time! This is **exactly** how it got started last time!"

Dewey began pulling at his feathers nervously. "Unca Donald is gonna hold in his temper before releasing it in one fell swoop! And did you see how he handled being kicked in the butt? He's probably gonna hold it longer and make an even bigger **kaboom**! Ooh just like last time!"

Louie let his eyes wander to the shop where his older relative disappeared into before turning his attention back to his distraught brothers. Even though he too was scared of a repeat of the "Dreaded Last Time" he noticed that his uncle was behaving a lot differently from before. Last time he tried holding in his temper, you could see that he was still pissed, muttering angry curses under his breath that he made sure everyone heard. But now…he seemed to have an almost calm air around him. The green clad duckling decided to voice this out to his brothers.

"Even if it is a _little _different from before," starts the duckling dressed blue. "It will still end the same way. And who knows, maybe next time he might actually destroy our favorite ice cream shop!"

The thought of his and his brother's favorite place to hang out and eat icy treats afterschool brought a surge of panic through him. Though he felt like older male was genuinely making an effort to keep his temper he definitely wasn't about to risk his ice cream on a hunch. "What're we gonna do?"

"Simple," states Huey as beckons his brothers to huddle up with him. "All we have to do is make him lose his temper before it has time to build. Everyone knows that his short bursts of rage cause less damage than his full scale assault. If we hit him with everything we got, he'll have no choice but to give up on his promise."

Louie nodded his head. "Sounds like a good plan. But are you sure Unca Donald can handle it?" Try as he might, the youngest brother couldn't shake the tiny part of him that worried about the repercussions of this plan and how it would affect his uncle.

Dewey playfully slapped him on the back. "I'm sorry, but have you even met Unca Donald? He can handle anything! But I think we'll need a little help. There's no way we can pull this off alone."

"**GET OUT OF HERE, YOU FEATHER IDIOT!"**

"Well judging on how angry the shop keeper sounds, our dear Unca Donald has only one place left where he can find a job." Upon saying that, they see the older male fleeing from the barbershop, barely dodging the different objects that was being thrown at him. "And it looks like we're about to head over there now."

"Hop in the car quickly, boys!" shouts Donald as clambers into the car, his face pale with fear. "We're going to your Uncle Scrooge's place!"

Huey shared a secret wink with his brothers as they drove off to their next destination. All was going according to plan. "I thought you said you didn't wanna work for Unca Scrooge because he was a no good no account, selfish, cheapskate, slave-driver."

Donald wiped his face in exasperation and sighed loudly. "I know I said I wouldn't, but we don't have a choice in the matter. It's either this, or we don't eat for a month," he sighed again. "Five cents an hour, here we come…"

**END CHAPTER**

**XxXxXxX**

I finally made another chapter. I'm so happy. If any are wondering how this is tying into Donald losing his memories, just hang tight a little longer and all will be explained in the next chapter. And don't worry, Jose and Panchito will be making their appearance soon. And yes, Uncle Scrooge really does only pays Donald five cents an hour.

To Reubenizadorables625: I can't lie, Donald will always be my favorite! XD

Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING. **

**XXXXXXX**

"…And that's why need your help with this, Unca Scrooge."

Uncle Scrooge McDuck leaned back in his chair and stroked his chin while he processed the information he just heard. His poor idiot nephew couldn't find a job and his only option was to come work for him, and on top of that Donald was trying to control his temper…**again**. Guess he didn't learn from the last incident when he destroyed everyone's favorite neighborhood pizza pallor, and he wonders why no one wants to give him a job.

"Okay then, lads. I'll help you break your uncle's temperance streak. But how will you do it? From what you've told me, your uncle seems pretty determined to not lose his temper."

The three young ducks grinned at each other, their eyes filled with mischief. "Don't worry about that, Unca Scrooge. We thought of ways to making Unca Donald break."

**Meanwhile…**

Donald Duck couldn't suppress the cold shiver that went down his spine for the fifth time since he and his nephews arrived at his dear Uncle Scrooge's mansion. He supposed he should be thankful that he got the job so easily, but nothing was ever simple when dealing with his greedy relative. He sighs softly and decided to put it out of his mind for now to focus on counting today's profits from one of the old skinflint's many businesses.

"2,753, 2,754, 2,755…"

"Well hello dearest nephew."

"2,756, hello Uncle Scrooge, 2,757. Thanks again for giving me this job." The younger duck gives his elder a grateful smile before turning back to his task. "2,758, 2,759."

"It's no problem, Donald. What kind of Uncle would I be if I didn't help you in your time of need? Just remember that you have another important job tomorrow delivering a letter to address 1704 Merry Cane Street."

"2,760, 2,761, uh sure Uncle Scrooge, I'll have it done early tomorrow morning."

"Wonderful, and remember that I need 230 coins polished this evening."

Donald felt his eyebrows twitch. "Uh 2,762…I'll handle right after I'm done here."

Scrooge secretly smiled as he silently watched his nephew grow more and more frustrated at the random numbers that were being said. "Good, now can you tell me what 3,593 plus 849 equals? Wait no need to tell me, it's 4442."

"4,443, 4,444…waaaak!" Donald slammed his hands down on the desk in exasperation. "I lost count!"

'_Success,'_ thought the elder duck. "Tsk-tsk Donald, you should be more when counting my money. You know how I would react if I came up short."A small but scary grin spread on his face. "I would have to pluck every feather from your body before firing your clumsy tail. So don't let it happen again."

A flash of red filled Donald's vision before he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. No need to get upset over a counting issue. "I understand, Uncle Scrooge, it won't happen again." With that said, he began counting once again. "1, 2, 3, 4…"

The feeling of shock found its way into the cheapskate's body at the sight of such control that he wouldn't have seen in his nephew just a few weeks earlier. He was surprisingly impressed. "Well, I'll leave you alone for now. Come and get me when you are through."

"Whatever you say, Uncle Scrooge, I'll finish as quickly as I can."

**XxXxX**

'_Well, it might have taken longer than it needed to, but I finally got today's profits counted out,'_ Donald thought as he made his way to his Uncle's office. _'Lucky for me there isn't any counting involved when polishing coins.'_

Upon arriving at the office, Donald knocked on the door and waited to be called in. Once he received the ok to enter he stepped in and waited to be directed to the coins that needed cleaning.

"I'm glad to see that you finally finished your first task, lad. Took you long enough though," says Scrooge.

The favorite blue hat that Donald always wore twisted and knotted in feathered hands when its owner used it to vent out his frustration. "I-I apologize again for my lateness, boss."

"Because it took you so long to count my money, I'm going to have to take away one of your breaks in order to make up for lost time."

The feeling of intense fire that was not unlike an exploding white sun surged through every fiber of Donald's being before said duck quickly excused himself from the room. Moving quickly Donald found a broom closet and ducked (No pun intended) inside of it. Hands still shaking in anger, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small black notebook and began writing down his usual frustrations in it.

_**Dear Universe,**_

_**Seriously?!**__ Me getting plates smashed on my head, and getting kicked into a trashcan __**wasn't enough for you?!**__ Now I have to suffer at work as well?! What did I do in my past life that made you have such disdain for me? Was I a killer? Was I an evil dictator? If I was any of those things…I deeply apologize._

_**Signed **_

_**Donald F. Duck**_

Donald let out a deep breath before leaving the room with restored peace and calm. It wouldn't do if he got so angry that he punched out his uncle/employer lights out. Quickly stepping back into Scrooge's office he apologized to his uncle for his abrupt departure.

"It's…it's no problem, nephew," mutters the older duck, shocked once again by his nephew's control. _'This is going to be harder than I thought.'_

**XxXxX**

Huey, Dewey, and Louie paced around the large office of Uncle Scrooge in more worry than they ever felt in a long time. Two weeks, it had been two weeks since Donald had made the promise to control his temper and so far he had been doing just that. Nothing that the triplets did seemed to faze their Uncle anymore. From the infinite amount of pranks they played on him everyday to making the biggest mess they possibly could in every room in the house. Heck, they even went as far as breaking the windshield to his car and flattening all the tires. Sure the older duck looked like he was going to blow a gasket, but instead he let out a deep sigh and politely asked them not to do again in the future. Needless to say, the ducklings were running out of options.

"We're nearing the two and a half week point," mutters Dewey as he stops his pacing to turn to his brothers. "If Unca Donald loses his cool on Wednesday then it's gonna be like the "Dreaded Day" all over again, even worse if he loses it any day after Wednesday."

Huey gave his younger brother a look full of skepticism and said, "So we just pull out all the stops and try to get him to unleash his anger on a Tuesday or earlier? Will those one or two days really make a difference?"

The middle blue brother shot his sibling a look of his own. "Can we really afford to the chance not to at least try?"

Louie remained quiet while his older brothers discussed what to do their uncle before Wednesday arrived. Something in his gut was still telling him that this was all a bad idea, but his siblings didn't believe so. He really hoped that what him and his brothers were about to do wouldn't hurt his uncle too much in the process. With a small sigh, he called for the other two ducklings' attention.

"So what's the plan?"

Huey thought about it for a moment before a small appeared on his face. Quickly he pulled his brothers into a huddle and began whispering the plan to their ears. "First we need to call up Unca Gladstone and Aunt Daisy, and then we…"

**XxXxXxX**

If Donald thought the icy cold shudder he felt on the first day when working for his Uncle Scrooge was bad then this shudder he was feeling now was ten times worse. At every little noise and at every little movement he saw in his peripheral vision the white duck jumped with fear and worry. It was silly really, but for some reason it felt like the world was out to get him, even more so than usual. With a soft sigh he turned his focus back to the object that was held with the upmost care in his hands. A beautiful and very valuable vase was bestowed upon Donald by his Uncle Scrooge to polish and to keep safe until he got back from his shareholder's meeting. It was simple enough. Or it would be if he could just shake off this haunted feeling of nervousness and dread.

Maybe it was the little threat that came along with the task of watching the blue crystal vase. Donald shuddered again.

_Ah dear nephew, this beautiful vase is one of my most prized possessions. If anything were to happen to it, I doubt I'd be able to stop myself from causing you grave bodily harm._

The duck's hold on the object instinctively tightened. He'd protect it at all cost.

"Oh Unca Donald!" shouted a voice from outside. Said duck waddled to the window and peered down below to see his three nephews waving up at him. "We have a little problem with the lawnmower!" As if on cue, the red and gold sit-down lawnmower appeared and began cutting its way through his uncle's prized bushes and dollar sign shaped hedges.

"WAAAAKKK!" Without thinking the uncle rushed down three flights of stairs to aid the young ones. Upon reaching the outside area the three ducklings rushed up to their uncle's side. "Hurry Unca Donald, we need you to turn off mower before it destroys anymore of Unca Scrooge's yard!" As if on cue the out-of-control lawnmower set its sights on the small family of ducklings, towards Donald to be exact.

"Y-You gotta be kidding me!" Donald screamed as he ran for dear life. He cut across the yard as fast as could, but when he looked behind him the grass-eating machine was drawing closer. He tried to lose it by running in a zigzag pattern before making a hard cut to the right, but try as white duck might the lawnmower followed him turn by turn as of it was a relentless bloodhound. After this display Donald came to two horrifying realizations. One, the mean machine picked up the pace and was going to run him down; and two, he was still holding the priceless blue vase.

Knowing it wouldn't be long before the inevitable happened, Donald threw the fragile vase into the air just as the mower ran him over.

The three ducklings cringed when they heard their uncle shriek in pain. His whole backside was now shirtless and featherless, but to their surprise the older duck managed to recover quickly to catch the falling vase before it hit the ground. He starts laughing triumphantly before quacking in terror when the machine turned around and began chasing him again.

"Maybe…maybe we should stop this before Unca Donald loses all of his feathers," whispers Louie to his brothers as the older male continued to evade his chaser by using every trick in his arsenal. But by the looks of things he was starting to get tired.

The one in red shook his head. "He hasn't lost his temper yet, Louie. We all agreed that this was the last resort and if it failed then we run the risk of him destroying something that could cause everyone in town to hate him. Trust me; this is for his own good."

Dewey nodded his head in agreement. "It's time to take it up a notch, Gyro," he said to the taller male who was currently operating the remote control that drove the lawnmower forward after Donald.

The triplets and Uncle Scrooge had brought Gyro Gearloose onboard in order to help push Donald over the edge. At first the inventor was a little apprehensive with going along with this plan. Who would want to invoke the short-tempered duck's wrath on purpose? But after realizing that he trying to hold his anger in again he knew this option was better than letting another "Dreaded Day" happen. "Sorry, Donald," he whispered before pushing a button on the remote.

"So…tired…can't…keep running much…longer…!" Donald gasped out, completely out of breath. His legs felt like they were on fire and it was causing him to slow down. In a last-ditch effort to keep the vase safe and the last of his feathers on his body the mallard darted to a large tree and proceeded to climb to the top. Once settled on a high thick branch he let out a sigh of relief. There was no way that a lawnmower could climb a tree. Glancing down the duck watched the mower from hell circle the tree in a shark-like fashion, causing the male to think of the Jaws theme song in his head. After circling about five times around the lawn cutter finally stopped.

A surge of hope bubbled in the tree-bound duck's chest. Did the metal beast run out of gas or malfunction? Was this nightmare finally over? Donald took a step to climb down from the tree before the mower suddenly began beeping loudly. The half feathered duck watched in horror as the red and gold machine sprouted two long mechanical arms, each one with a large buzz saw at the end of them. Immediately they began cutting into the base of the tree and sure enough, the tree began to fall.

"TIMBER!" the ducklings and Gyro yelled as the tree toppled over and hit the ground with a earth-shattering boom. They watched with bated breath to see the reaction of Donald Duck after he realized that the vase he worked so hard to protect was now shattered into a million pieces.

The small bubble of hope that had found its way into Donald's chest had been replaced with a heavy feeling of dread and despair. In front of him was a pile of blue crystal shards that once used to be a beautiful vase. While the sight of the crystals shards glimmering in the sunlight was beautiful it only spelled out death for him. What was he gonna do when Uncle Scrooge found out?

As if on cue Uncle Scrooge appeared right beside him, an "angry" look on his face. "Why Donald, look what you did to me beautiful vase! I give you one simple task and you can't even do that right!"

"B-B-B-But Uncle Scrooge i-it wasn't my fault!" sputtered Donald as he tried to explain what happened. "There was this crazy lawnmower that was chasing me and…"

"ENOUGH! I have had enough of your excuses!" Scrooge yells while continuing to glare at his nephew. "I was obviously being too generous when I gave you your old job back. You're far too clumsy and unreliable to work here. With that said, consider yourself FIRED!"

Panic washed over the younger duck. He couldn't get fired now; he had three little mouths to feed and bills to pay. No one else was going to hire him and his uncle was his last option. He then proceeded to beg and plead with his older relative to give him another chance.

"Donald Duck, did you get fired again?!" yells a voice.

Both males turned around at the new voice that had entered the fray. Daisy Duck shook her head in a disapproving manner. "I thought you promised me that you would keep your job so you could take me out on a proper date at a fancy restaurant?"

'_This wasn't happening, this wasn't happening,'_ thought Donald in his mind. "But Daisy I tried, I honestly, truly tried to keep this job! You have to understand that it wasn't my fault!"

But the female duck wasn't having any of it. "Ugh this is what I get for actually trusting you to keep your promises. I think I'm better off with your cousin Gladstone." With that said Daisy turned and walked away.

"I think I'll go with you, Daisy," says the rich duck. "Hiring Gladstone would be a much better investment than Donald ever was."

Donald watched helplessly as his family and friends left him by himself. Even his three nephews seemed happy to go over Unca Gladstone's house. He was alone. Just like in his nightmares he was completely…**alone**.

Immediately he felt different emotions began rushing through his system. The first and strongest was rage. The need to go destroy something, especially that damned lawnmower! The second emotion was overwhelming sadness that came with the feeling of being abandoned. The third was fear. Would others follow his family's lead and leave him alone by himself? Would anyone want to talk to him again? The three emotions warred inside of him, each one trying to dominate over the other. The bone-deep need to let go of all the rage he had been holding in for two weeks was close to breaking the surface of his being, but Donald wasn't willing to let it happen.

'_I've gotta…hold it in,'_ the duck thought desperately as he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his black notebook in order to vent out his anger through writing. But to Donald's anguish the notebook fell apart in little slivers. Obviously the lawnmower's blades and torn the book up.

Donald fell to his knees in despair, his fingers digging into his head as he tried to hold his rage in. The only thing keeping his anger in check right now was the sadness and fear of his family not speaking to him again. If he wanted any chance for his family to come back to him then he would need to keep calm. But another part of him was screaming that it didn't matter anymore because they had already left him. It made no sense to keep calm when all of this bad luck was crushing him into the ground. It felt like his mind was about to be torn in two with the anger and fear battling it out for dominance. He wanted to let his anger out, to feel relief and lightness that it sometimes brought, but his fear was holding him back all while drowning him in the sadness of being left alone. His mind couldn't take it, his body couldn't take it, and his heart couldn't take it either. Finally, something inside of him snapped.

"I can't win…" he whispered to himself. His voice was just as broken as he was. "I can't win." Tears began running down his cheeks while the fingers in his head tightened to the point that feathers were coming out. His body curled up within itself all while Donald continue to mutter, "I can't win, I can't win, I can't win." Soon the feeling of sweet numbness soon filled the distraught duck. To not feel anything right now was much more welcome than the emotions he dealt with earlier. Pushing himself up he cast one finally glance at his uncle's mansion before turning to walk away.

**XxXxXx**

"Ooh I can't wait to see my nephew's reaction this time," exclaims Scrooge as he pulls out his telescope to get a good view of his nephew's fury in action. "It's better to watch from a distance, you know."

"What do you think he's doing right now, Unc?" asks Gladstone with a grin. "Maybe pick a fight with some random stranger?"

"Nah he's probably wreaking havoc on inanimate objects," suggests Gyro.

Daisy couldn't help but giggle at the thought. "Now if I know Donald as well as I think I do, then he would most likely attack and destroy the lawnmower first. Maybe with a ax, or a chainsaw…no wait, with a stick of dynamite. And then he would go after the tree that made him break that phony vase. *Giggle* You might have a winter's worth of firewood if Donald goes at it with an ax, Uncle Scrooge."

The rich elder chuckled at the thought. "Firewood without having to pay anyone for chopping it. I like the sound of that."

Daisy continued her thought. "And if he has energy after doing all of that, then he will go wreak havoc on objects and random people."

Huey, Dewey, and Louie laughed.

"Yep that sounds…"

"…Just about…"

"…Right, Aunt Daisy."

Laughter then filled the room until Uncle Scrooge muttered, "That's strange; I can't see Donald anywhere."

"Huh?"

"Are you sure Unca Scrooge?" asks Huey as he peeks through the telescope. Sure enough his younger uncle was nowhere to be seen. What was even stranger was that both the lawnmower and tree were untouched. "He really is gone!"

The uneasy feeling that Louie had been feeling ever since the anger management issue had started came back in full force. "B-But where could he have gone?" Silence and confused looks were his only answers.

**XxXxXxX**

Donald didn't know how long or how far he had been walking, but judging by the setting sun he had been walking for quite a long time. The only thing that was keeping him going was his inner mantra: Just keep walking, just keep walking. Where was he going? He didn't know and he didn't care. In fact, he didn't care about anything at the moment. Not even that he was walking around with most of his blue shirt gone and some of his feathers missing. The sweet numb feeling was still covering up his emotions and was driving him forward down this near deserted highway.

"Just keep walking. Just keep walking."

The sound of a vehicle up ahead roused Donald from his quiet mumblings. He quickly moved farther from the road, not wanting to add a pickup truck to the lists of things that would run him over today. He honestly didn't trust his luck anymore. The old vehicle zoomed by, but whatever it was carrying must not have been tied down properly because something flew off hit Donald in the back of the head, **hard**.

The white mallard went down to the ground with tears of pain and sadness running down his cheeks. The numbness he had cherished was now being ebbed away by the feeling of sadness as he started to lose consciousness. The sensation of cool liquid was now running down his body. Was it blood? Was it tears? Or did just start to rain down on him just out of spite? Donald Duck really didn't know. All he knew was one thing at the moment as his mind finally succumbed to darkness.

"…Just keep walking. Just…keep…walking…"

**END CHAPTER**

**XXXXXXXXXXX**

YAY I finally finished this chapter! I just had a sudden rush of ideas that let me complete it. What a relief. I'll try to update soon and thank you everyone who still reads this story.

Until next time, BYE!


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